Marja brightened suddenly. "Money? Then why not get it directly?"
"Directly?"
"Of course! Let's go to a bank and take it!"
To Kris, who had been listening passively, the suggestion came as a jolt. Rob a bank? Unheard-of! But still—
Norvis was nodding. "I like it. By the Great Light, I like it!" He smiled. "Marja, your father would be proud of you! Let's work this out, here and now."
Kris leaned forward excitedly. "Who's going to do it?"
Marja turned to him, an odd light in her eyes. "I'd say you're the best choice," she said. "You've got the ability."
Kris smiled. He'd been thinking along the same lines himself. The job called for a strong man—and if he didn't do it, Del would. "You're right!"
"O.K.," said Norvis. "Ganz, you and Marja go out and find me half-a-dozen of the best ship's carpenters in Vashcor. I'll talk to Kris."
"Carpenters? What for?" Ganz said.
We'll have to make some changes in the Krand," said Norvis. His eyes glittered animatedly. "We'll have to build some sort of secret place, to hide all that money!"
After Marja and Ganz left, Norvis turned to Kris. "It's a tremendous responsibility, Kris peKym." He smiled as if to take the curse off that weighty statement. "I'm sure you can handle it, though."
"I'll do my best," Kris said.
"You'll go to Tammulcor and take the Bank of Dimay. Remember, though, that that territory is dangerous. We've got Vashcor, here, and the Bronze Islands pretty well under control. Sailors are notoriously lax in their religious discipline, anyway —as you well know."
Kris grinned. "I know." As a member of the Clan Yorgen, he could trace his ancestry back to the Great Lawyer, Bel-rogas Yorgen himself—as could a few hundred thousand other Nidorians. Some Yorgens regarded themselves as especially important for this reason— but a few years at sea had robbed Kris peKym of that particular delusion.
"But farmers," Norvis continued, "are different. A farmer depends on his land; he knows that the agriculture of his ancestors was "good enough to support a family, and he knows it will support him. The farmer is a simple man; he knows what he needs and he knows how to get it. His life is stable, and that's the way he likes it. Follow?"
Kris nodded. "If a farmer's life becomes unstable because of innovations, the first thing he'll do is scrap the innovations and go back to the old way of doing things. It's almost automatic. The farmer is simple in his outlook."
"Simple, yes," Norvis agreed. "He isn't stupid, though." He stood up, facing Kris, who towered over him by a full head, and stared at the younger man for a long moment.
"Let me tell you a secret," said Norvis. "You were only a child when the Great Depression hit Nidor. You know who caused that depression?"
"The Earthmen and the Elders," Kris said as if repeating a lesson.
Norvis shook his head. "No," he said. "I did. Del peFenn and myself caused that depression."
"You?"
Kris felt as though he had been stung. His parents had been sturdy Pelvash farmers who had tended their crops with care and husbanded them with diligence. In the year of the double crop, they had been murdered by a band of hungry, marauding scum from the cities. Eight years old, alone and friendless, the orphaned son of old Kym peThad Yorgen had made his way to Vashcor, to the sea—the only way a young boy could live.
He had signed eight-year papers and been assigned by the Seamen's Guild to the ship of Captain Norvis peKrin Dmorno.
Norvis had come to be almost a father to Kris, teaching him to read and write, filling him with hatred for the Earthmen who were destroying Nidor.
To find that Norvis was partly responsible for the devastation that had caused the Great Depression was a distinct shock to Kris peKym's nervous system.
"You were responsible? How?"
"We distributed the hormone to every farmer on Nidor—and so we caused the Collapse." For a moment, a flicker of some unreadable emotion crossed the Secretary's face.
"Why?" Kris asked. "Why did you—"
"Why? It's a complicated story, Kris. Let's just say the Earthmen badly fooled us all. But we managed to cover it up and do our best to straighten things out again."
Kris felt a great flood of relief.
How typical of Norvis! Simply because he had been duped by the Earthmen, he was willing to shoulder the responsibility for the whole collapse of the economy.
He smiled at the Secretary. "Well, you did straighten things out again."
"Yes—and we took credit for it But it was the farmer who did the right thing. It was the farmer who saw that the thine to do was to go back to the old way, to quit using the hormone. Of course, we were the ones who told them to plow their rotting crops back into the ground, but the vast majority had already made up their minds to go back to the old way. And the Council of Elders had to go along."
"I follow," Kris said. "With the farmers still persuaded that the Council of Elders knew what it was doing, too. They don't think too clearly, do they?"
"That's not the problem. The thing the farmers cannot seem to see is that our Council of Elders is being misled by the Earthmen. If we don't wake them up, Nidor will be in ruins before another century passes."
Kris' eyes widened. "This ought to stir them up. Great Light, what an idea! Robbing a bank! It's unheard-of!"
Norvis smiled. "Exactly. Marja hit on a tremendous idea. And that's why it'll work."
"We can certainly use the money," Kris said thoughtfully.
"True—but we'll have to use it sparingly. Too much of it dumped on the market at once will cause a panic."
"So? That's just what we need: panic."
"Not that kind. It's—" Kris looked exasperated. "Look here, stealing the money will cause a panic. Unloading it will cause another. That's what we're looking for — dissatisfaction, unrest, anything to agitate the people against the Earthmen. You've been telling me that ever since I was eight years old."
"Well, yes, of course. But we have to make sure what kind of panic. We have to remember what forces are in play." Norvis put his hands together. "The Unit Cobalt Weight is the money of exchange of all Nidor. It has been for four thousand years. For almost as long, the greatest percentage of the actual coin has been kept in the five banks of Nidor—one bank in each province. It was realized pretty early that a certified piece of paper was just as good as the coin, and, if lost, at least we'd still have the metal. Now what happens if a bank loses most of its metal?"
Kris put his hands on the desk and leaned toward Norvis peKrin Dmorno. "I don't have to be lectured to as though I were a child! Come off it, Norvis! Why not a second panic? The first will be nullified as soon as the Council in Gelusar authorizes the amount lost to be coined from the bullion reserves. Why not another panic?"
Norvis shook his head. "I don't think so. We'd lose more than we'd gain. Take a look at it; think it through. What will happen in Dimay if we're successful?"
Kris peKym's brows drew together in thought. "Well, bank notes will be worthless—for a while, at least. Then the Council will authorize more coinage, as they always do to make up for coins lost."
"You really think so?"
"Let me finish. These coins aren't lost. If we dump all that metal back on the market, the cobalt itself won't be worth as much; we won't have gained anything. We'll have to feed it back into circulation slowly enough to allow the Council to take up the slack by recalling the excess."